


Most Potent

by footsieinthegarden



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Enjolras, Cologne, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-08 17:42:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14110638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/footsieinthegarden/pseuds/footsieinthegarden
Summary: One day Enjolras will feel totally confident in the way he, Grantaire, and sex all go together. It will definitely not happen on the day Grantaire surprises him by wearing cologne.





	Most Potent

**Author's Note:**

> I was plotting out something angsty and needed to cheer myself up, so this little bit of fluff was born. Fair warning - this is more of a character study of ace!Enjolras and self-indulgence in happy!E/R and the smut makes only a brief appearance.

“Where are you going?” Enjolras mumbled as he groped across the bed; opening his eyes would simply be too much effort. 

Grantaire laughed but still got up before Enjolras could catch him. “I have to go back to my dorm and change.”

“Since when have you ever minded going to class in your pajamas?” Enjolras dragged his eyes open and the blankets up to his chin. 

“It’s not even winter yet,” Grantaire teased as he shuffled around the room. 

“Will that make you feel guilty enough to actually stay and keep my bed warm then?”

Grantaire snorted and, after he had wriggled into his hoodie, he perched next to Enjolras and booped him on the nose. “I don’t think that phrase means what you think it does. I’m sure your mother can explain it if you ask nicely.”

“Combeferre is not my mother!” Enjolras protested as he scrunched up his face in response. 

“Could’ve fooled me.” Grantaire smirked, which was stupid instead of cute since he was leaving and not staying curled up in bed when neither of them had morning class. 

“Are you sure you can’t stay, R?” 

“For the record, using my nickname like that is a low blow, but no, I really can’t.” Grantaire looked down and fidgeted with the comforter. “I have to get ready for – a thing.”

Enjolras sat up and let his blankets pool around his waist. He took Grantaire’s hands from where they were still picking at the comforter. “Is that what had you worried last night?” he asked softly. 

Grantaire gave him a lopsided smile. “Yeah. Sorry. I guess I haven’t perfected the whole not stressing about something when there’s nothing I can do about thing yet thing. But I didn’t want you to notice.”

“You know I understand,” Enjolras said in sympathy and kissed Grantaire’s fingers. “I just didn’t want to force it out of you and make it worse.”

His boyfriend was still blushing from the kiss, and Enjolras marveled that he had ever worried their physical relationship might be a problem. “You really are the best,” Grantaire reminded him for the first time that day. 

“So are you. And I know whatever your thing is will be great, but either way, come over later?”

“Yeah, alright.” Grantaire’s smile grew a little more, and he gave Enjolras a gentle kiss before standing. “It sounds like Combeferre has finished making coffee, so I really better go now.” He shut the bedroom door behind him, but Enjolras was still soothed back to sleep by the muffled voices of his boyfriend and best friend chatting amiably. 

He woke up for good a little later to one text from Combeferre asking if he needed any groceries and fifteen from Courfeyrac about his official investigation into why he had seen Grantaire dressed up so nicely on campus, five of which were clarifying that he was not quite as cute as Combeferre but no offense was intended. Enjolras rolled his eyes and after giving a vague answer, he pulled himself out of bed to go work in the living room. He toyed with the idea of going to the library, but he wanted to be home in case Grantaire’s secret thing did not go well; the last thing Enjolras wanted was for his boyfriend to be stuck out on the front steps while he was hurting and upset. He lost himself in the paper he was working on and was startled to find several hours had passed when the apartment buzzer went off; he was very glad that meant it wasn’t Combeferre, who would have scolded him for missing lunch.

He was delighted to see it was Grantaire, pleasantly flushed and, just as Coufeyrac had promised, looking very cute indeed, a light green button-down tucked into black slacks, his facial hair groomed and curls tamed. To be completely fair, Enjolras thought he also looked cute first thing in the morning, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate variations on the main theme. “It went well?” 

“Yes!” Grantaire looked slightly taken aback at his own exuberance. “Yeah. I – a gallery agreed to display some of my paintings for sale. I guess they saw some of my work at a showcase and wanted to talk to me about it. I mean, that doesn’t guarantee any of them will sell, or that anyone will even like them but-”

“That’s wonderful, R.” Enjolras leaned down to interrupt him with a kiss. Despite his boyfriend’s best efforts, he still didn’t really “get” a lot of art, though he would argue passionately about what an important cultural institution it was and how funding for it should be significantly increased, but the one opinion he was sure of was that everyone in the art world should be lining up to work with Grantaire. But he also knew how brutal and soul-crushing it could be, and R more than deserved any attention he got. He sucked in a breath through his nose as he tried to wordlessly express all this to Grantaire, in case he brushed off the words themselves, and was suddenly very distracted. “Are you – is that cologne?” 

“Yeah. It’s expensive as fuck, so I’m glad it didn’t go to waste. Wait – shit, you’re not allergic, are you?” 

“No.” Enjolras could feel himself turning bright red. “It’s – really nice.” The way he was unexpectedly half-hard was distinctly less nice and, given that he had never bothered to change out of his pajamas, it was probably distinctly noticeable to Grantaire, even though their lower bodies weren’t actually touching. He looked away and tried very hard to remember the last gross medical fact Combeferre had exuberantly shared with him, but now that he had noticed how wonderful Grantaire smelled, he couldn’t un-notice. 

“Do you need some space to have an existential crisis?” Grantaire asked lightly, even as he took Enjolras’s hand and squeezed it. 

“No. Sorry. This is supposed to be your special moment. I’m not trying to ruin it.” He forced himself to look at Grantaire and the only terrible thing that he happened was an affectionate eye roll. 

“Enjolras, you having a hard-on is not ruining anything. Shall I regale you with awkward boner stories to make you feel better?” Enjolras shook his head. It wasn’t like this had never happened before, it wasn’t even like they had never had sex before, but this feeling of suddenly and actively wanting to do something about it was new, and it was hard to analyze with Grantaire right there, still smelling so nice. He knew it wasn’t just the cologne – if he had smelled this on anyone else, he would’ve found it pleasant and nothing else; it was the combination of the scent and Grantaire, helped along by his nice outfit and happiness. 

“Maybe we could go to my room instead?” he asked as he turned even redder, which was also ridiculous because there was nothing wrong with sex in general, and there was nothing wrong with him for sometimes having it, and Grantaire would certainly never mock him for it, but he was really not used to asking for it. 

Grantaire blinked a few times, and Enjolras could see how dilated his pupils were, though his voice was steady when he asked, “Am I pressuring you into this somehow?” His tone was serious, but Enjolras laughed anyway. 

“No, of course not.” Enjolras squeezed his hand because Grantaire never, ever had. “Unless you became an artist just to all lead to this one moment.”

His boyfriend laughed and squeezed back. “Fuck no. If I was that desperate to get into your pants, it would’ve been a lot easier just to overthrow the government by myself than to sell my art. I’m sure Combeferre has a relevant study he could cite.” He slipped off his shoes and held up his bag. “Mind if I change first? If I have my own studies to cite about how uncomfortable cuddling in dress clothes is.”

“Of course.” Enjolras watched him go and then went to his room and slipped under the covers. He was tempted to touch himself, just a little, and he could only imagine Grantaire would enjoy finding him like that, but he was too nervous to do it. Grantaire appeared in a few minutes later, dressed in his pajamas and clambered into his own side of the bed. The cologne was more muted now that he had changed, but it was still there, on his skin, and Enjolras couldn’t help but hope he could talk his boyfriend into staying the night again so that it would seep into the pillow and sheets; given that Grantaire had packed a change of clothes, he hoped the answer would be an easy yes. He shifted a little at the thought, a little harder now, and more than a little embarrassed. 

Grantaire reached out and cupped his face. “Enjolras, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. You can always change your mind.”

Enjolras closed his eyes and shook his head. “No. No – I want to. You just – you know how I get.” 

Grantaire smirked at him again. “It’s only fair for you to be nervous about one thing in life, Enjolras. Actually no, it’s not fair, at all, that you’re only this nervous about one thing and you can keep it private. You’re lucky I still love you.” Enjolras rolled his eyes as Grantaire kissed him a little more playfully that usual.

“How does Courfeyrac do it?” 

“Being born without any kind of filter is a helpful start. Honestly though, I’m much more interested in how he can get glitter out of his hair so easily.” Grantaire absent-mindedly ran a hand through his own curls, and Enjolras shifted a little.

“Maybe we should stop talking about other people now?”

Grantaire looked at him again, eyes darker than his voice had suggested, and then pulled himself against Enjolras’s chest. “What do you want?” He ran his fingertips lightly up and down Enjolras’s arm. He waited patiently for a time, and then poked him in the chest. “You know you’re allowed to ask for something you’re not necessarily interested in reciprocating.”

“But that’s not right.” Enjolras squeezed his eyes shut. 

Grantaire pressed his face completely into Enjolras’s chest. “You are seriously the most exasperating person on the planet, you know that, right?” He tilted his head to peek up at Enjolras with one eye. “You want me to blow you, don’t you?” Enjolras very much did; it was just the thought of returning it was so…gross. Even if he could convince Grantaire and force himself to do and try to find enjoyment in pleasing his boyfriend, it would still be gross. It felt so wrong to ask for it anyway. “Don’t tell me I’m the only enthusiastically consenting party to that idea here.”

“If you don’t mind?” Enjolras whispered finally. It wasn’t like Grantaire was incapable of telling him when he disagreed with him.

Grantaire mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “so fucking exasperating” as he knelt up to pull off his shirt, dropping it onto Enjolras’s chest, and then worming his way down backwards under the covers. He certainly was enthusiastic, and the warmth of his mouth and the scent clinging to his shirt were a heady combination, and Enjolras didn’t last long. He slumped back into the mattress and rubbed Grantaire’s back as he rutted against his thigh. Enjolras fumbled for some tissues to pass to him and only got them there just in time. “That better be enough to convince you to not feel guilty,” Grantaire announced once he had cleaned himself up and plopped back down on Enjolras.

“Mission accomplished,” Enjolras laughed and petted Grantaire’s curls. 

“What mission?” Courfeyrac asked loudly in the doorway. 

“Courf!” Enjolras squeaked. “When did you let yourself in?”

“What? Like I’ve never seen you two attached at the hip before?”

Grantaire sat up, and Enjolras flushed on his behalf when Courfeyrac noticed he was still shirtless, not that either of them seemed fazed. “I promise if you don’t share this with everyone you know and everyone they know, and you go order dinner, I will let you interrogate me about why I was dressed up today as much as you want.”

Courfeyrac rocked up on his toes. “Can I plan a party for it?”

“You can mention it at the next meeting. If Enjolras will allow time for it.” This was sufficient compromise to send Courfeyrac bounding down the hall and calling loudly for Combeferre. 

“You know I’ll always make time for you, right?”

Grantaire gave him a smile that meant “usually” but simply said, “Yeah, and now you need to make time for a nap. I’ll wake you up when the food gets here.”

“So definitely not a waste of cologne then?” Enjolras asked as he obediently settled down to rest his eyes for a few minutes. 

“By the time you wake up, I’ll have a second job just to afford to buy more. Now get some rest. Courfeyrac is going to want your opinion on what body part I’ll cut off when I become the next Picasso.” Enjolras hummed, too sleepy to really respond, but just awake enough to appreciate that Grantaire still hadn’t taken his shirt back.


End file.
